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Munich Football Tournament - 2009 Henham Dads Army flew out to Germany on Saturday 10 October to take part in their third overseas tournament. Only one Henham team entered this year; a sad indictment of the credit crunch, long term injuries and, more worryingly, old age. A quick glance at the demographics of the side (and may be the results) suggests that Crown Green Bowling is not too far away. That said, Henham returned with silverware. Two trophies in fact. One that reflected their ability on the football field and the second for Fair Play - awarded by the Tournament referees. Subject to Mel’s agreement and, moreover, the Tour Organisers releasing Henham’s spoils these shall be displayed on the pub’s walls rather than used in the kitchen. The tour consisted of seven players. Each man (and the Boy) was required to pass a fitness test (held on Thursday evening) to play in Munich’s 1972 Olympic Stadium. The ‘Churchillian’ few were: · Foxy (‘Don’t call me Dad’) Senior; · Foxy (‘Don’t tell them your name Pike’) Junior; · Dan Kodesh – Founder of the Henham Cider Club; · Dickie (‘Where Am I’) Goldman; · Sean (Of the Dead) Dunphy (We have never seen anyone so white after a night out); · Mo (‘The Matrix’) Parks; and · Paul Chater. Unfortunately, Matt O’Shea was a late withdrawal due to family commitments. The numbers could have been reduced further by HM Revenue & Customs as The Matrix mischievously declared he was carrying Charlie at Stansted Airport. On arrival in the new city, Foxy Senior displayed his leadership skills. The Irish Bar was located accurately in the Munich backstreets using the new phone Satnav. Sean of the Dead was placated; he could watch the international football. As Ireland qualified for the World Cup play-offs; his Guinness was shared vertically with anyone who stood nearby, which included the Tournament referees. They were not amused and Henham received its first yellow card of the Tournament. Rarely do you meet someone who lives for a purpose but Dan Kodesh takes his pre-match preparations seriously (flashback to Brussels 2007). However, Saturday 10 October was a night that ended in uncharacteristic failure for the young man and here is an extract from Dan’s Journal entitled ‘Dan Kodesh - My part in My Downfall’. 19:26 pm Failed attempt at the bar to get served 19.33 pm With popular support takes the seat and the drinking begins 19:38 pm ‘Danschlushed’ - Dan is reunited with his old favourite drink. Very happy 19:39 pm Starting to get aggressive at the bar 19:40 pm Overconfident in his ability to consume any alcohol and picks on champagne. Much dancing 19:41 pm Gets a taste of the vodka 19:42 pm Over extends himself and shows weariness. Becomes bolshie 19:44 pm Staggers under the onslaught of earlier conquests, hit by wave after wave of nausea and loses Calvados 19:45 pm Found in the basement 19:66 pm They think its all over. Dan is retired Unfortunately, Dickie ‘Where am I’ Goldman did not have the modern day technology to return to base. Undernourished and Underground the FTSE 100 senior manager adopted a systematic approach to finding his way back to the Holiday Inn. Here it is: Proceed to Platform 2; Cannot find the Holiday Inn; Proceed to Platform 3; Cannot find the Holiday Inn; Proceed to Platform 4……..Proceed to Platform 12. Having exhausted all possibilities Dickie remembered that Hotels cannot be found on the Underground platforms and headed up to street level where the green light beckoned. Jaz Singh the Tour Organiser is a great exponent of fair play and wanted to ensure that all players were in a similar condition for the next day. As such, he joined Henham Company and led the next onslaught into the nightclub area. New to his surroundings and slightly disorientated by the noise and lack of light he charged into a gay bar advertising Happy Hour. The others stood back dumbstruck and five minutes later, a more disorientated and non-plussed Jaz emerged with a pink bracelet on his wrist. Henham had its first casualty.
And as for the football, Henham’s aggressive game plan ensured that the mistakes of Chamberlain would not be repeated 71 years later. Attired in a Barbarian style kit (someone forgot to order the new one); the team competed in a gruelling seven game marathon; each one lasting 16 minutes. A late goal in the last match ensured Henham entered a penalty shootout with Manuden but the script had already been written for the Essex side and “If only” and “Germany” is all that had to be said. Further spoils had been denied. Great individual performances should be mentioned in dispatches. The Matrix excelled in goal; displaying Harlem Globetrotter skills never before seen by a Goalie. This involved picking up a harmless back pass with his right hand; spinning the ball up his right arm; flicking the ball over his right shoulder and carefully placing the ball into the top right hand corner of the net. A heroic, if slightly desperate leap followed, that saw the keeper and the ball in the back of the net. Silence reined, the lead lost and grim reality set in. The repeat performance really wasn’t necessary but the Charlie Chaplin autobiography consoled him after the game in spite of Customs earlier attempts to confiscate it. This energy needed to be harnessed on field and Sean of the Dead put on the Goalie’s jersey. A selfless and brave display kept the opposition at bay for three seconds after the kick off before a speculative shot from inside the opposition’s own half saw the ball roll wickedly through his legs. Foxy Junior put in a performance of a lifetime. He ran, he chased and made a general nuisance of himself both on the field and in the bars later that night. As soon as Dickie found his bearings, he led the front line admirably and returned to Blighty as Henham’s top scorer. ‘I’m not your Dad’ Foxy launched countless blitzkriegs down the right flank before running into the proverbial brick wall and the literal boardings at the side of the pitch. Needless to say, this gentleman’s sense of fair play contributed to both of our awards that evening. Victory could have been ours; dashed by penalties at the end; but then who do you think you are kidding Mr Hitler. Paul Chater' |
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